POP MUSIC REVIEW : A Caring Concert From Lou Reed at Greek Theatre

Lou Reed made only a few vague opening comments to his Greek Theatre audience about the mayhem under way in the city Wednesday night. But given that he was there to offer the local live premiere of “Magic and Loss,” a song cycle about death and the reaction to it, irony was inescapable, if barely alluded to.

“Magic and Loss”--which composed the harrowing, 70-minute, pre-intermission part of Reed’s show--is specifically a meditation on terminal disease, recorded after the cancer deaths of two friends. The one time the work seemingly veers away from autobiography is in “Harry’s Circumcision,” a mini-narrative about self-mutilation and suicide that seems like a sick, morbid joke. In context of the entire album, though, the song can really be read as laughing at the folly of man’s self-destructive compulsions when, after all--the cancer-themed songs make clear--nature itself is only too happy to destroy man.

And on a night in which the value of human life seemed held in an especially low regard--whether by wanton brutality or the impersonal ravages of disease--Reed strove to reaffirm it, in his own cranky, bitter and irascibly caring way.

The complete run-through of “Magic and Loss” was a risky move, even with as devoted an audience as Reed’s. Though critically lauded, the album hasn’t been much of a seller--not surprising, given most record buyers’ probable lack of interest in confronting their own mortality--and much of the crowd undoubtedly hadn’t heard it. On the first listen or 15th, it’s not an easy sit.

When it comes to squaring off against death, you might expect a famously bad boy like Reed to rage, rage hard at the dying of the light, and he and his three-piece backing band did on a few occasions--the opening “What’s Good” and especially the furious “Warrior King” and fairly metallic “Gassed and Stoked.” But anger, denial and sublimation only go so far, and Reed isn’t afraid to spend much of the piece just wallowing in the emotions of pure bewilderment and resignation, with spare, slow instrumentation and a lack of melodiousness to match.

Fortunately, aside from the inevitably out-of-place catcalls and a few bizarre shouted requests, the crowd stuck with him--and was rewarded with a less demanding second half. Post-intermission, Reed launched into four more amusing (if still emotional) selections from his and John Cale’s Andy Warhol biography “Songs for Drella” and an up-tempo pair from the grittier “New York.” For dessert, he delved into the back catalogue for four greatest hits, including a perfunctory if mandatory “Sweet Jane.”

The band deserves special credit for helping pull off the initial song cycle, with Mike Rathke joining Reed on lead and rhythm guitar, master bassist Rob Wasserman contributing a slew of cello sounds on his electric upright as well, and Michael Blair providing potent percussion.

The wild card of the evening was “the legendary Little Jimmy Scott,” the wonderfully weird, aged soul singer who reprised his wail on the new album’s “Power and Glory.” Singing “I want all of it, not some of it” in a near-soprano, Scott played The Life Force as a foil to Reed’s mumbling, disappointed curmudgeon, gesturing with the dignity of an orator while emitting some lovely, otherworldly sounds. Scott also got to take the “girls” part on the closing “Walk on the Wild Side.” “Crazy,” said Reed, affectionately. Yep.